Oppressio
by purplegirl761
Summary: My entry for Capwn's "Darker than the Average Story" contest. Well, it's darker than MY average story, at least. What was going on in Drakken's mind while Captain Black-Eye Brown invaded his body? T for creepy spiritual stuff.


It's coming back.

He freezes, stock-still, and orders his hands to flail, his eyes to blink, his feet to stomp, anything to get Shego's attention. To scare it away. To do _something_.

It doesn't work. Thick ink creeps up, along his edges, smothering him, pressing him down into darkness and fear. "Shego," he manages to squawk. "Shego!"

She spins around - his eyes are blurry, but he can see the disgust in hers. Does she not understand? How can she not understand?

"Help me," he tries to croak, but his lips are stuck shut. The blackness crawls further, and he feels his mouth come open again, but the words that come out aren't his. The _voice_ isn't even his, and he can do nothing about it.

He grunts inside, flails wildly, tries desperately to get his body to stop disobeying him. It doesn't - it's listening to someone else now, and he's drifting away from himself.

The darkness swallows him whole.

()()()()()()()()

Chains.

On his wrists. His ankles. Cuffed together. A ball and chain attached to one leg.

They're heavy. Too heavy for him to stand all the way. They look tight - like handcuffs - and he expects his pain receptors to be working overtime.

But they're not. He can't feel _any_thing, physically. He's more scared than he's ever been in his life, even in prison, but he can't feel his heart pounding against his rib cage or the sweat trickling down from his forehead. His whole sense of touch has vaporized.

The air in here is thick. Hot. No, it's cold. No, it's hot. No, cold. Presses hard until he's sure he's going to choke.

Where is he? And, more importantly, how does he escape?

He licks his lips, even though he can't feel their dryness. "Shego?" he whispers. Has he blacked out again? Did Kim Possible hit him on the head and haul them both away to prison?

Footsteps stride across the floor, and he shrinks away from the sound. Cast-iron bars appear in front of him, even as he watches.

How - did that - happen? That's not scientifically possible.

A chuckle rises from a corner of this - this - this - whatever this is. A hallucination, probably. Maybe he just ate some moldy donut holes - yeah - that makes sense - that's okay -

"Aye, lubber," a voice croaks, coming from the same direction he heard the chuckle. It's old-sounding and makes him think of rusting metal. "Nothin' be scientifically possible here. Ye might as well get used to it."

Sure. He's locked up in pitch-blackness with a pirate. Why not?

The sarcasm calms him down slightly. No wonder Shego uses it so much.

Two booted feet step out of the shadows then. He peers at them and then looks up - they're attached to legs, which only makes sense. Legs in purple pants - _purple_? - and a chest in a purple shirt - _purple_? - and a face that's still covered by the darkness.

Definitely a pirate, though, judging by the sword hanging from his belt. Like fifty percent of the male population, he's taller than him. Not as many muscles as Eddy, but definitely not a skinny guy, either. Something heavy and frightening hangs in the air around him, and he shudders a shudder that he can't feel.

"What - what am I doing here?" he yelps, wrenching against the chains. "Could you please - explain - what's going on, maybe?" He hears his voice going higher and higher with each word, because it's suddenly taking great effort not to burst into tears.

The pirate leans in then, dim light revealing his thick mane of black hair, pulled back behind him in a ponytail. His big, dark eyes cupped in smudgy circles. Big floppy purple hat on his head - yellow feather sticking out. _Wait - wasn't I wearing that?_

It's a nice hat. But Pirate Guy flashes him a nasty not-really-a-smile smile and replies, "Sit down and take 'er easy, Drakken. 'Tis my cabin, now."

What is he _talking_ about? They're not in a cabin! How did he know his name? He growls in anger - yes, that's right, get angry - don't be scared.

The pirate chuckles rustily and waves his arm at the dark-gray walls. Dozens of red screens appear and he steps back even further into nothingness, breath raspy.

The screens flicker on, revealing a dark-gray, mushy object. Shaped like a walnut. Divided in half, with different parts lighting up every couple of seconds. It's. . . someone's brain?

Pictures flash across the brain, pictures of himself and Shego and his mother and Kim Possible and blueprints for world domination and Commodore Puddles and himself again and his henchmen and hey wait a minute! "That's _my_ brain!" he bursts out.

"Aye, and a smart one it is, matey," Pirate Thing croaks. "Just what I'm needin'." The smile on his face is colder than the look in his eyes. "And just what I be usin'."

_The chest. _

_Skull and crossbones. _

_My brain! _

_My body!_

_Me!_

"You can't have my brain!" he yells, stomping his foot for good measure. "It's not yours! The same goes for my body! This is - this is like kidnapping and robbery all at the same time!"

There. He smiles in satisfaction, wipes the sweat he doesn't feel off his forehead, and waits for the pirate to gape at him in awe.

He doesn't. The smile stays in place, but it stiffens. "Actually, landlubber, it's what's known as 'possession'."

Well, that's illegal, too. He's heard it quite a few times. _Got him on possession._ "Whatever," he snaps in the bravest voice he can muster. "I want my body back!"

Voice goes into the stratosphere. Fear thickens. _Help me, Shego._

"Ye don't get yer body back." The man looks down at him over a nose that curls like a Rolo. "Cap'n Black-Eye Brown needs it more than you do."

Black-Eye Brown? He hoots out loud. And he always thought "Drew Lipsky" was a dumb name!

The pirate raises his eyebrow - half his eyebrow. His one big thick eyebrow. . .

_No._

Black-Eye Brown steps into the light.

_No, no, no._

The face that looks back at him is so pale it's almost white. Long and ovally, like someone stretched it by the very long chin. Hard as a diamond, only not nearly as pretty. Lines surround his eyes and mouth, carved in deep. A long, skinny mustache and a squiggly black beard - so he can grow facial hair, big deal (he's _not_ jealous). But there's a glint in his eyes that he recognizes, only squared and cubed and squared again.

_I want to take over the world_, it says. And that one eyebrow brushes those eyes menacingly, and on his left cheek. . .

Same shape. Same place. This man is wearing _his_ scar on _his_ face.

The blackness swallows his scream.

_Are we related? Are we evil twins from alternate dimensions?_ A hiccup bursts out of his mouth - he had no idea he had the hiccups - he can't feel his diaphragm, either.

"I don't know, matey." Black-Eye scowls his own scowl, only much meaner. "All I know is you set me free to conquer the world."

Fury builds in him, and he drops to the ground and writhes, trying to get rid of it. "That's _my_ job!" he yells. "When I get my hands on you - "

The stupid stinky captain interrupts him. "Oh, ye don't want to cross me, Drakken." He spits out his name like he's talking to a piece of malfunctioning machinery that's annoying him. "Or The Master."

Sunday School flashes. Can't breathe. Fear too big. "Your boss is - you work for - he's - he's -" He doesn't know how to say it. Doesn't want to know how to say it. "He's someone really bad, isn't he?" Don't cry.

Black-Eye Brown's eyes twinkle wickedly. He - _it_ - talks slowly, softly, in a way that makes the chains seem heavier. "Ach, landlubber. You work for him, too."

The blackness gets blacker. Vision swims. _Shego_. "No, I don't," he barks, but he hears his voice crack and go up. "I'm an independent worker! A - a - a -" what are those words - "free agent?"

"Ye don't know it." Black-Eye keeps smirking, like it knows everything and he doesn't know anything. "But think about it. Who did you think you were servin' all this time? You bear my mark."

No, he doesn't. He turns away, buries his face in the shadows, hiding it from the one that looks like it. Black-Eye grabs his chin in a big, rough hand and jerks him around so their eyes meet.

Icy cold spills over him. He can't feel it, but he can sense it. And he wants away from it so badly it hurts without pain receptors.

"See?" Black-Eye jabs his scar, and he yelps, expecting it to tingle. "'Tis a sign of evil."

Something about the way he says "evil" doesn't make it sound like the amazing thing he's been trying to achieve for most of his life. It sounds like something deep and dirty to run away from.

He forces a snort, though it comes out as more of a wheeze. "No! It's a sign that I cut my face! You can tell your stupid _boss_ that, okay?"

Even that doesn't seem to make it angry. "Oh, The Master has been quite pleased with your work." It leans in, eyes shining. "He especially liked the one that included li'l toys of him - and his name to boot." Black-Eye rubs its fuzzy chin. "E'n if it was in Spanish."

All of a sudden, he can feel part of his body again. His stomach. It lurches and pitches and churns, sending the two of them sliding forward, knocking him into the metal bars, which vanish and let him plow right into Captain Brown.

"Batten down the hatches!" Black-Eye yells, and he doesn't, because he doesn't know what that even means. "What be happenin'?"

_Oooh_. Somehow, moaning and whimpering because he can feel every ache now, he manages to bring one hand down to his stomach and press, hard. The hiccups come back worse than ever. He can see, furry and bluzzy, with only one eye. He's on a boat - _where's the side of it? I'm gonna hurl._

But he doesn't. His stomach blurbles a few times, settles down, and he breathes a sigh of relief that he can actually feel puff out of his mouth. He can feel! He can move! Maybe now she can hear him!

"Shego!" he hollers. "Help - "

Black-Eye's smelly hand closes over his mouth. "Another trick like that and I might toss yer body into the drink and find a new one!"

Oh. That sounds bad. He wrenches himself away from the wicked hand and spits a few times to get rid of the sour taste in his mouth. "It wasn't my fault," he mumbles. "Mentioning the Dia -" _oohhhh_ - "those things - _hic_ - they make this body sick."

A sword suddenly flies through the air and lands about two inches from his feet, nearly succeeding in making him wet himself. "Wimp," it growls. (Black-Eye, not the sword.) "Ye have so much potential, but The Enemy's been tryin' to win you back. That's why The Master sent me."

Wait. If The Master is the devil, then The Enemy must be -

_God_. One warm thought in the cold.

"This world is gonna be conquered, Drakken," Captain Brown sneers. "But ye missed yer chance."

Nnnnngh dhhhhhhhh. He grinds his teeth together. Is it telling the truth? Did he miss his chance? Is he stuck being possessed forever?

Oh. _That_ kind of possession. He thought that only happened to people back in Bible-y times, and it shouldn't happen to him, because he's evil and he's brilliant, but somehow it doesn't make any difference. He can't control his body anymore, and this - this - this pirate/demon thing has full access to his brain!

"Just wait until Shego gets a hold of you!" he finally sputters. "She'll disassemble you!"

The unibrow goes up. "Disassemble?" A mean chuckle lurks in its voice.

Ugh. Wrong word again. "Whatever!" he snarls, furious that he's not being taken seriously. "Disassemble - demolish - disintegrate - some word that means she'll really, _really_ kick your butt!"

It doesn't seem scared. It laughs loudly and maniacally, in a way that makes him hide his face in the dark again. "The green wench?"

He doesn't know what the word means, but the tone of its voice and the look on its face say it all. It's something bad - something _horrible_ - and no one talks that way about his sidekick!

"Now you listen here - " he begins.

It cuts him off rudely. "Well, hear this, lubber. Your beloved Shego - " he doesn't deserve to say her name! - "knows full-well what's goin' on."

Hope. Light. "She does?" he sniffles - how long has he been crying? _Hic_.

"Aye."

The screen fills with an image of Shego, smirking at him - well, at his body, at least. "So, if you're possessed by this pirate guy - " she's saying.

"I am!" he yells. She knows. She understands. She'll fix him. "Help me, please! Shego! Please!"

Her face stays hard. "- it's actually made you a pretty dangerous guy. Nice change of pace."

Pain.

Hurt.

Shock.

No.

Grief.

Shego.

Help.

Chains.

Get them off.

Make it go away. Make it all go away.

"You see, lad?" Black-Eye's voice cuts through the haze. "She cares naught for you."

Shudder. He's right. He's known that for a while now - abandoning him in prison, trashing his lair, calling him a loser, bad-mouthing him nearly the entire time he's known her - he should have known all along Shego doesn't care about him. Or like him. Or consider him her best and only friend in the whole wide world.

But it can't be true. It hurts too much to be true.

Captain Brown squints at him. "Watch this." A wicked, leery smile starts over its face, and on the screen, his own face does the same thing. _His_ body is looking at Shego like he wants to give her a mouth-kiss, or worse.

"No!" The chains drop off his wrists, and he lunges forward. Pounds the controls on the screen as hard as he possibly can. "Don't do that to her! Don't make me do that to her! NNNINGH! ERRR - NEHH!"

Black-Eye grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him away from the screen, away from Shego, who still desperately needs his help, even if she doesn't know it. The evil pirate is bigger than him, but that still doesn't explain how it can be stronger than all of his henchmen put together, how its hands are so hard as it rechains his wrists.

"I see you love yer mother greatly, too," it says, as if it possesses innocent villains every day.

His mother's sweet little face jumps into his mind, and he squeezes his eyes shut and wishes she was here to stop this. "Don't hurt her," he snarls, surprised at the viciousness in his own voice. "If you hurt my mother, then so help me, I'll - "

It hisses, like the sound of a cat throwing up rocks. "No! She is - _protected_." It says the word like it tastes bitter.

Okay. He doesn't know what that means, but at least Mother's safe. _Hic_. He wipes at his face, frantically, trying to revive his nervous system. "By - your enemy?" he guesses.

Black-Eye snarls at him, but it nods. "And don't ye be gettin' any ideas, lubber." It leans closer, closer, heat pouring from its nostrils. "What makes ye think yer _God_ would do anything for ye? What 'ave you ever done for _him_?"

It's right. He closes his eyes against the frustration and sadness and hurt that suddenly appears. He's been trying to take God's world away from him for the past twenty years of his life. Why would he reach a hand down into this poisonous darkness and help him, even if he could?

It laughs and leers and watches merrily. He strains and grunts and seethes. In the movies, when people get angry enough, they can break their chains, but these stay strong. They jerk him backward, and his head hits the wall with a very loud _thump_, but it doesn't hurt.

He wipes spittle from his mouth and chokes on the blackness, the evil. But he doesn't cry. Even though Shego doesn't care about him and God doesn't care about him, no tears fall from his eyes.

Because he's frozen inside. And who would hear him anyway?


End file.
